Pirouette
by rose adagio
Summary: Just a collection of Princess Tutu one-shots: some AU, some sweet, some sad. Mostly Fakiru-centric.
1. Fakiru Week 2017

**1: Silver**

The silver utensils glistened under the bright kitchen light. Ahiru rubbed furiously at the fork with a wet cloth, cleaning it until it shined. Satisfied, she grinned at her distorted reflection. There was the sound of footsteps and turning around, she came face to face with Fakir.

"It's been an hour," he grumbled. "You're not even close to finishing the dishes."

Ahiru whined, "But there's a lot of them!"

"You only had to clean the silverware. That shouldn't be taking so long."

Pouting, she poked him in the cheek with a fork, spattering droplets of water on him. They slid down his face and left tiny wet trails. Giggling, the redhead reached into the sink full of soapy water and splashed more on her friend.

Fakir glared at her and folded his arms, the water plastering his long hair to his face and dripping into the floor. "Idiot, you can't even do chores properly."

"Mean! You can't even smile right, so you shouldn't be talking." Ahiru poked the edge of his mouth with her fork.

He raised an eyebrow. Then he took a handful of water and tossed it at her. She yelped in surprise and tripped, tumbling backwards onto the kitchen floor. His mouth twitches upwards into a smile, and Fakir began to laugh. Tossing another piece of silverware at him, Ahiru scrambled to her feet to retaliate with another water attack.

* * *

 **2: Motif**

Ahiru tugged on her friend's sleeve. She knew she shouldn't be bothering him while he was studying, but she couldn't reign in her curiosity at the word she had stumbled across in her book. "What's a motif, Fakir?"

Fakir barely glanced up from his work. "We're in a library, moron. Search it up in the dictionary."

* * *

 **3: Flight**

Fakir groaned as another flower was dropped on his head. It slid downwards and tumbled onto his book. He glared at the redhead above him in the tree, who was jumping from branch to branch. "What is so amusing about throwing plants at me?"

Ahiru pouted. "They were presents. You're being mean by not appreciating them."

The dark-haired boy sighed and returned to his book. No sooner had he turned a page did something else land on his head. This time it was hard—definitely not a flower. It rolled into the grass, and Fakir realized it was a pear. Silently, he reminded himself to find a different tree to sit under when they went out next time.

Ahiru laughed and swung onto another branch. "Look, Fakir, I'm flying!"

He shut his book and jumped to his feet. "Stop that, moron, you'll fall!"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "No, I won't." As she was about to climb to a higher branch, her foot slipped. She grasped in vain for a branch to hold on as she began to fall. Closing her eyes, Ahiru braced herself for the impact. Then she landed safely in Fakir's arms, and he staggered back under the sudden weight.

"Dammit, you moron, don't do that again." As he set her on the ground, he added, "Save the flying for when you're a duck."

* * *

 **4: Memory**

Ahiru was laying on her stomach in front of the fireplace, gluing pictures into a scrapbook. She'd received a new camera and developed an interest in photography. Unfortunately, most of the photos had turned out blurry. The scrapbooking wasn't going well either. The glue stuck to her fingers and smeared everywhere, transferring to the pages, her face, her hair. Her eyes were narrowed, and her face was scrunched in concentration.

"What are you doing?" There was the sound of footsteps, and soon enough, Fakir was beside her.

"I wanted to make a scrapbook so there's a place to hold memories, but it's not going so well."

Fakir gave her a small smile, then gently took the photos. "You need to be careful not to get glue on your fingertips." He applied glue to the back of the photo, then pressed it onto the paper, rubbing over it to make sure it stuck.

Ahiru watched with her undivided attention, blue eyes wide. With a nod, she tried to paste the rest of the photos into the scrapbook.

* * *

 **5: Storm**

Ahiru stared out her window, chin resting in her hands, watching the rain. Droplets of water slid on the glass and pooled at the windowsill, creating squiggly lines on the pane. In the distance, thunder sounded while lightning stuck the ground and streaked the sky with light. It lit up the earth, almost like a firework. She had always found it odd watching the storm as a girl and not a duck. Because Ahiru was now a human, she could safely watch it from the comfort of a warm living room rather than seeking shelter in her tiny pond. A tug on her braid quite literally yanked her out of her thoughts.

"Come on, idiot. The tea is ready." Fakir poured the steaming liquid into the little porcelain cups.

With a smile, Ahiru sat down to the table and inhaled the sweet aroma. "It's raining a lot, huh?" She glanced outside once more.

Her friend followed her gaze, frowning. "Yeah, it could flood."

The redhead coughed as she choked on her sip on tea. With a gasp, she spat it back out into the cup. Concerned, Fakir stepped forward. "Hey, calm down."

"Are we going to die?" she finally managed to ask.

A brief smile crossed his lips. "No, we'll be fine."

* * *

 **6: Change**

Fakir stared up at the night sky while leaning against the tree. He could feel the cold rough bark through the thin fabric of his white uniform shirt. On the far end of the expanse was a small glowing sliver of white - a crescent moon, one of the last phases before the cycle would repeat itself.

Ahiru sat leaning against his eyes, her eyes closed and a serene smile on her lips. Her chest rose up and down. Fakir knelt and picked her up, deciding to head home. He paused to turn around, once more looking at the moon. Yes, changes were sure to come.

* * *

 **7: Story**

Neither the duck nor the knight were pleased about the fates set for them. As the gears turned and a story was spun, words penned in blood pulled the entire town into a disastrous tale. But the characters were unwilling to be pulled along. So the knight laid down his sword and picked up a pen, beginning to write a story of his own, one full of hope.

It was his heartfelt words, bursting at the seams with every emotion, that turned the duck into a girl. No, ducks didn't become swans. The girl was no more graceful than she had been as a duck, always easily startled and clumsy. But that was good enough for the knight, for his story had its own kind of happy ending. He wasn't a prince or even that gallant of a knight, and the duck was by no means a princess. They were just a small town boy and girl, and that was good enough for them.


	2. Holidays

Colorful tin ornaments and little candles decorated the massive fir trees while the smells of hot chocolate and apple pie filled the air. Snowflakes floated to the ground; snow blanketed the ground and rooftops, covering the town in a sparkling white. It was almost like a wintry fairy tale. Dead leaves swirled around Ahiru's feet, a reminder of the ever-changing seasons. Spring had come and gone along with Drosselmeyer and his tragedies. It was replaced by summer, then fall. As the trees withered, bright oranges, yellows, reds turned to a dark brown, and the air became colder. At the start of the new season, Fakir's words weaved a story that changed the little duck into a girl.

Ahiru stuck out her tongue, attempting to catch a snowflake. Fakir glanced at her, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. "That rarely works. You'll just catch a cold."

Oh right, he was there, standing beside her. She had forgotten that upon seeing the magic of winter. Upon pondering his words for a moment, she found that she had missed this. Ahiru had missed talking with him as a human, dealing with his snarky comments and cynical attitude.

"But I've never seen winter before! It's magical." She pouted, scrunching up her nose, an act that made her freckles look more clustered together.

"It's the changing seasons." Fakir shrugged, hands in his pockets, a scarf loosely wrapped around his neck. Snowflakes littered his hair, contrasting with its dark green. The snow could perform miracles, Ahiru decided. It could make even Fakir look nice.

"But I've never experienced winter before as a girl." Her voice quieted. Had she even experienced it as a duck? Come to think of it, she couldn't remember her life before the story. Ahiru had just existed, as though to serve the story's purpose.

As though he could read her mind, Fakir placed a hand on her head. "You're here now. Drosselmeyer is gone, and you are free to be your true self without the story controlling you. The role you played before does not matter."

Ahiru quickened her pace to keep up with him. "What role do I play now?"

His eyebrows knitted together while he thought. "That's a difficult question to answer. You see, without the story, we live our lives without knowing the ending, without being given a role. That is something you should decide."

"Deciding our own stories, huh?" the redhead muttered.

It was an unusual concept, one filled with hope and a little apprehension. To live a life without a foreseen ending—what was that like? Ahiru had played the character of Princess Tutu, a beautiful princess cursed to disappear once she confessed her love for the prince whose heart was meant to be eaten by the Raven. But Princess Tutu hadn't disappeared, and the prince defeated the Raven and returned to his fairy tale. The failure of a knight who had been destined to die lived and succeeded in bringing the tale to an end. The story hadn't ended in tragedy like how it was meant to, and that was alright. Fate and free will went hand in hand: choices could change a person's destiny.

The jingling of bells made Ahiru look up. In the town square was an elderly man dressed in red and a decorated fir tree with wrapped gifts underneath. Beside him was a woman holding a plate of sweets in her gloved hands, a warm smile on her face. Ahiru watched as the gifts and sweets were handed out to the little village children. She couldn't help but smile at the joy that filled the kids' faces.

Ahiru tugged on her friend's sleeve. "Is this what they do every winter?"

"It's the holiday season," Fakir explained. "People have different traditions and ways to celebrate."

She titled her head, a breeze lifting the ends of her hair. "What traditions do you and Karon have?"

He remained silent, eyebrows drawn in thought. "I don't think we have any. All I remember is..." Why was it that he could only recall events relevant to Drosselmeyer's wretched tale? Had his memories faded because he was so preoccupied with being Mytho's knight?

Ahiru tugged again on his sleeve. "Is it too late to start traditions?" she asked in a soft, high-pitched voice.

Fakir smiled as they neared home, the lights calling to them in the darkness. "It's never too late. That's how normal life works; how each chapter of your story goes is up to you."

A grin spread across Ahiru's face while her eyes lit up like the pretty lights. Tugging on Fakir's arm, she began to pull him back to the town. "Let's go buy a tree and presents like everyone else!"

...

"Hey, we don't need that menorah—we aren't Jewish. We don't need a tree either—hold on!" Fakir scrambled to help his friend, who had begun grabbing every holiday-related item she could see. As expected, the klutzy redhead tripped over nothing and in a flurry of colors, everything came crashing down.

"Erkkkk," Ahiru mumbled from the pile of items.

"Let's just get a couple wreaths and some presents for Karon, alright? We don't need so many things."

Ahiru's head popped up with her characteristic lock of hair standing up. With every turn of her head, it twitched back and forth. "Okay!"

When the two teens arrived home with wrapped presents and wreaths in their arms, Karon was nowhere to be found. The lights were on, but the house was silent. Fakir set the items down and peered down the staircase into his foster father's workshop. The area had been wiped clean with no trace of the aging man. Raising an eyebrow, Fakir stepped cautiously into the living room. It was empty and quiet and—

"Happy holidays, zura!"

He stumbled backwards, eyes widening. Before him stood the all-too-familiar puppet with her green hair and noisy drum. She pounded on it, making his eye twitch.

A puzzled Ahiru appeared by his side. "Uzura, what are you doing here?"

"I'm visiting but Drosselmeyer doesn't know I'm gone, zura." She banged even louder on her drum. Exasperated, Fakir ordered her to stop.

Massaging his temples, he asked, "Where is Karon?"

As though to answer his question, a grunt came from the entrance, followed by the sound of shaking leaves. Surprised, the two teens ran to the door to see Karon, Raetsel, and an oddly familiar man holding a fir tree. Grinning at Fakir and Ahiru, he said, "I figured we should start celebrating Christmas,"

The two helped them bring the tree into the living room. When they had set it down, Fakir asked, "Raetsel, what are you doing here?"

His sister figure laughed, her dark hair rippling with every shake of her head, and hugged him. "Always so serious! Hans and I decided to visit for the winter."

So the man was her husband. No wonder he seemed so familiar. Ahiru stepped forward from behind Fakir. "Hi, Raetsel. We also brought decorations."

"That's right. We'll go get them."

Soon enough, the little home was covered in all sorts of decorations from the store-bought wreaths to odd plants Uzura had somehow picked up. Presents of all shapes and sizes were piled under the tree, some neatly wrapped and others with the paper barely attached. Ahiru smiled. It wasn't too hard to figure out who had wrapped which gift.

She glanced up at Fakir, who stood illuminated by the blazing fire, shadows dancing across his face. "Is this going to become our holiday tradition?"

He looked at her, then nodded. "Yes."

"And it happens every winter?"

He nodded again.

Ahiru pressed her fingers together, closing her eyes. The joy, the warmth—everything was like a fairy tale. Even though the story had ended, there was magic in a normal life, in the ability to create spin your own tale.

"I like this chapter of life."

Fakir smiled. "I like it too."


	3. New Year's Day

The sun sank beneath the horizon, painting the sky pink and orange. Having been pulled into motion by the cool breeze, the water lapped at the shore. On a dock, quill in hand, a writer scribbled away at his papers while a little yellow duck swan near him. So absorbed in his writing, Fakir did not pay any heed to his surroundings until a cold splash of water hit his face. He looked up. The droplets clung to his bangs and sparkled like pearls. Slowly, they dripped down his cheeks and onto his clothes. His eyes fell upon the culprit: the duck.

"Idiot, what was that for?" He scowled at her.

Unfazed, Ahiru gave a happy quack in response. She swam closer to the Fakir, and her quacking grew louder. The duck flapped her wings in an attempt to get across her point. The writer raised an eyebrow. Lips quirking upwards, he picked up the bird in his arms.

He petted her head and asked, "Now what is it?"

His avian friend only responded with persistent quacking. Finally, Fakir realized: it was New Year's Eve. Ever since the story had ended, the days had passed in a blur: school, ballet, writing, Ahiru. He hadn't bothered keeping track of the time passing by. Now they were about the enter a new year, the first one in which Goldcrown was not controlled by a story. Yes, the new year would be one of hope and fresh starts. Satisfied that Fakir had finally understood, Ahiru settled into the crook of his arms and rested her feathery head against his chest. Like always, it was warm in his arms; she felt safe. The writer glanced at the darkening sky then looked back at his friend. It was time to get back home.

When they returned to the town, the center was bustling with human inhabitants. So many people and not a single anthropomorphic animal in sight. The town was strangely not strange. Was this what a normal life was like? Fakir found that it was a tad difficult to adjust to, no matter how many months passed. It was odd not having to look behind his shoulder every second in fear of crows or chasing after Mytho, who would no doubt hurt himself in his selfless need to help the helpless.

"Quack!" Ahiru chirped and nudged her beak against Fakir's arm.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts then smiled down at his friend. Of course, she wanted to join in on the festivities. With a sigh, he walked closer to the town party. He had never been much for social event, but for Ahiru he would participate this once. Fakir walked to a stall that was selling fried dough and bought some for the bread-loving bird. He tore off a small piece and fed it to Ahiru. It was piping-hot and burned the tips of his fingers. Immediately, the duck gobbled up to offering. She offered Fakir a grateful smile when she finished.

The hours gradually passed by, and the party dragged on. Tired and having had their share of fun and food, the pair headed back to the little pond. It was always very pretty this late at night. The water reflected the moon and starlight, making it seem as though there were tiny fairies dancing on the pond. Fakir could hear the chants of the townspeople in the distance; they were counting down to twelve before it would finally be a new year.

Ahiru quacked softly, and the writer looked at her, his dark green eyes meeting her bright blue. Just as the countdown finished, he raised her up and pressed his lips to her forehead. A warm white light enveloped the pair, and their bodies began to glow. Ahiru's little duck form elongated, her wings becoming arms and her webbed feet becoming legs. The lights swirled around her body and formed a floating white dress with golden accents. Fakir's torn blue shirt became a purple vest and a white shirt with loose sleeves. The ink staining his fingertips and the mud dirtying his shoes faded away.

When the light faded, Fakir and Ahiru looked at each other in surprise. They both were dressed in dance costumes and we're miraculously standing on the water. Deciding to let go of his doubts and fears, Fakir extended a hand to her. Ahiru's mouth opened and closed, trying to form words in a tongue she had not spoken for so long. But she did not need words, only to accept his hand and allow him to lead her through a beautiful dance. As Fakir guided her in their pas de deux, Ahiru could not help but feel that this year was _just right_.


	4. Valentine's Day

I'm late, but how could I not do a Valentine's Day one-shot for my OTP?

* * *

The distant courtyard was a collection of gray, blue, and vibrant reds. Gold Crown students carried heart-shaped chocolate boxes into the school. Ahiru peeked out of the window, casting a glance at her front door. It was tradition that a student confess their love by offering the person of their affection a box of chocolates. The school had delivered one to each dorm room. Each box was immaculately wrapped with perfect pink bows. Ahiru was almost afraid to touch hers for fear of ruining it, but that would ruin its purpose—she only had to find the courage to confess to Fakir. Surely he would reject her, but the redhead doubted he would let it come between their friendship. At the thought of him, Ahiru's heart fluttered and perhaps began to beat a little faster.

A knock sounded from her door. "Are you awake yet? Hurry up, let's get to school early so we can deliver our chocolates."

Ahiru scrambled away from the windowsill. Grabbing her bag and stuffing the chocolates in it, she stumbled outside, much to Lillie's amusement.

"Oh, poor clumsy Ahiru. Surely you'll be rejected and your poor heart will be crushed in two." The blonde wrapped her in a suffocating hug. "But don't worry! I'll comfort you!"

Ahiru managed to escape from the chokehold but nearly collapsed into the door. She frowned, resting a hand above her bag. Perhaps she _should_ leave the candy behind; he wouldn't be pleased with her confession anyway. She could almost hear his response in her head. "Don't waste time on trifles, idiot," he would say. But oh, what was the harm? Ahiru figured he at least deserved to know how she felt.

"Hey... Do you think it's weird to just show up all of a sudden?"

Pique's eyebrows raised. "What do you mean by that?"

"Even if it was weird, it shouldn't stop me, right?"

"Oh, you'll fail tragically, but I'll comfort you!" Lillie sighed in delight.

Determination renewed, the red/haired girl marched down the hall, her two friends trailing behind her.

Pique tugged at her arm, asking, "What are you doing? Why are you walking so fast all of a sudden?"

"I'm going to tell him!" Ahiru broke into a sprint, her grip tightening on the box of chocolates, her braid flying behind her.

Her two friends watched her run down the hall with confusion, shrugging. They were used to her odd outbursts by now, so the matter wasn't too much of a cause for concern.

Ahiru found herself standing in front of the library. The rush of adrenaline had left her. Why did she need to confess now? She should've waited until the end of the day. Wow, she really was weird. Hesitantly, the girl entered the library. It was still and quiet, unlike the jumbled thoughts in her mind and her heart hammering inside her chest. Shelves and shelves of books lined the walls, framing long rows of empty desks. The place was nearly empty. After all, not many people wanted to spend Valentine's Day in a library. Fakir wasn't most people. He probably thought the day was stupid.

Ahiru found him in one of the library's smaller rooms. He was leaning against the ladder, one foot resting on a step, a book open in his hands. At the sound of footsteps, Fakir looked up. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh! I, um..." She laughed nervously. "It makes sense that you're here. You like books! And the library has books. So you must like the library."

Unfazed by her babbling, he casually turned a page. "Idiot. What is it?"

Sharp green eyes stared intensely at her. Ahiru fidgeted. It was as though he could almost read her mind, but no, that'd be foolish. He knew her all too well. Really, it was surprising Fakir didn't already know. She tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. "I-I..."

"Hmm?"

Ahiru shook her head. "Never mind, sorry for bothering you."

"Moron," he said gently. So many months ago, the word would've been a harsh insult. Since when had it become a term of affection? Since when had she begun to almost expect his attitude? When was it that she began to care?

"Finish your sentences."

Ahiru shoved the box of chocolates into his hands, earning herself a look of surprise. Fakir's mouth fell open as he stared at the unexpected gift. She slowly crossed her arms in front of her to make the mime of love. His cheeks flushed.

"Idiot! What's all this for?" he spluttered. The blush only deepened. She looked up at him with wide blue eyes. His grip tightened on his book. His hands trembled ever so slightly. "Are you serious?"

She nodded. Shaking his head in disbelief, Fakir set the box aside and returned the mime.

"I love you, too..."


End file.
